


Fancy

by dont_sit_under_the_apple_tree



Series: Dragon Age Shorts [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, seduced through the power of terrible puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24553486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_sit_under_the_apple_tree/pseuds/dont_sit_under_the_apple_tree
Summary: A brief stop in the process of two men trying to feel each other out (and maybe feel each other up).
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Mahariel
Series: Dragon Age Shorts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774657
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Fancy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tired, I'm in pain, the world sucks, I needed something stupid.
> 
> Fun fact: I've always imagined Gil speaking with a thick Scottish accent, so have fun juggling voices in your head :P
> 
> Gil is a warrior-reaver, which has consistently been my favorite class and specialization through all the games, although I will always have a soft spot in my heart for arcane warriors/knight enchanters.

"I fancy many things," Zevran said, grinning up at Gil'thoniel. "I fancy things that are beautiful, and things that are strong. I fancy things that are dangerous and exciting." Here, he paused to allow the words to sink in, to give Gil time to understand just where Zevran was headed. Dark eyes flicked up and down his frame, and he sunk the proverbial dagger into its home. "Would you be offended if I said I fancied you?"

Gil stared at him, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling in hidden mirth.

"Offended?" He said. "No, never offended. Surprised, perhaps."

"Surprised, my dear Grey Warden?" Zevran asked.

Gil swayed toward him, angling his head to properly whisper into his ear. Zevran's breath caught in his throat as the man drew near, and he couldn't help but admire the way GIl's long hair spilled from his shoulder with the movement.

"Surprised that you think I'm so trusting."

The words were soft, his breath warm against Zevran's skin, but there was enough of a bite that Zevran flinched slightly despite his years of training. He knew Gil was dangerous, had witnessed that danger first hand (and what a first hand that had been - _long hair pulled back, blood painting his skin in way that seemed far too natural_ ). He knew he would have to be very lucky indeed to win any sort of fight with him. Zevran shook his head.

"I do not think you are too trusting," he said. "I do, however, know that if I try anything, I will have your blade to contend with," he lowered his eyelids and threw Gil as sultry a side-eye as he could manage, "And there is only one blade of yours I wish to meet."

Gil gave a huff of air, a quiet wheeze, before he straightened himself out. He looked supremely amused.

"That was terrible," he said.

"Ah, but it worked," Zevran said, holding up a finger.

Gil hummed, tilted his head, then nodded.

"Yes," he said, "I suppose it did."


End file.
